Tuesday, September 13, 2005

years and yaughter

leers and farters
clears a shafter

ray a light
madonnas peach
nightlight gold
wine cellars of dry clay
bays of dark stone shelves
in shadows rest the barrels

the palette is all mango lassied
feelin' nauseous
was that the cricket match,
the emptiness of all within and out me,
or the stale rose wine?

gobbling mints to freshen the tongue,
but the glutinous beige sensation will not be budged,
fooking shite eh?
Where's fookin Uncle Sam when yer need 'im eh?

1 comment:

Deek Deekster said...

Uncle Sam is in a box, put there by the blatant disregard of his own citizens during and after the hurricane...